


Reaction Shots

by RedLeaderfic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Desk Sex, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Manhandling, Never Talk About Your Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/pseuds/RedLeaderfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baron didn't know if there was an official No Touch order on Corey Graves but he'd assumed it was damn well <i>understood</i>. </p><p>Seemed like Joe never got that particular memo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaction Shots

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after the 3/30/16 NXT episode.

Baron had already showered and changed by the time the main event kicked off; Joe was going to murder Dempsey, it was the definition of a pointless match. Two Full Sail production interns lurking around the backdoor and watching the raw feed on a tablet were so enthralled they didn’t look up when he walked by, so at least Joe seemed to be making a show of it; he was halfway out the door when both of the kids reeled back with a surprised “ _Oh_!”

All right. Maybe he cared a little bit. “What happened? Dempsey actually pull it off?”

The intern holding the tablet shook his head. “Not even close, Finn had to run out to save him. They’re brawling all over the place now, Joe just took out the announce team---”

Baron snatched it out of his hand and stalked back toward the locker room, leaving his bag still leaning against the door. One of the kids, the one he’d just robbed he supposed, shouted, “Hey! Hey I need that!” Baron didn’t respond and he heard the other one go, “Dude, shut up! I like living. Your mom’ll buy you a new one.”

Baron found a quiet corner and tried to figure out how to rewind the raw live feed on his new toy. Bálor was wandering through the crowd, Baron guessed looking for Joe, but that whole section of crowd was quiet and looking past Bálor over to the commentary desk. Baron got the rewind function to work and scrolled back a few minutes, his stomach twisted up like he expected Joe to come out of nowhere and flatten him, too. He’d gone back too far but he didn’t want to mess with it anymore; he tapped one finger against the screen frame as he was forced to watch the match he’d tried to skip out on. By the time Bálor and Joe finally wandered over by the announce desk Baron had almost convinced himself those idiot kids had overreacted.

Then Joe picked Bálor up and heaved him right at Graves’ head. Phillips managed to scramble mostly out of the way, the coward, but Graves went down so hard Baron winced even though he’d been waiting for it. The camera didn’t move in and Baron leaned forward like that would help; all of he could make out of Graves was one hand and some of his sleeve, enough to know that he’d wound up on his face. Baron saw his hand move once but couldn’t tell if that was a signal to Bálor that he was okay, go after to Joe or if it was just a twitch. Baron rewound the feed and watched again, trying to catch anything the missed the first go round. Then he did it again. That last time he let the feed play out, cursing when the cameras pulled away from the table to follow Bálor and Joe, who cared, they were just going to fight again soon anyway. Every so often the shot would angle enough to put the desk in the side of the screen, just enough to see that Graves was still on the floor. Still hadn’t moved. “C’mon. C’mon, get up.” Baron knew a lot of the tag guys had little signals among themselves to let each other know when things were actually bad and when they just looked bad but he and Graves had never worked anything out like that. Why the hell would they? Baron didn’t care for the rest the locker room but he wouldn’t have expected any of them to take such a cheap shot. (But Samoa Joe wasn’t really NXT, Baron reminded himself. He was another just another indie jackass walking around like he owned the place.) “Get up, you asshole.”

The feed cut off and Baron threw the tablet against the wall like a frisbee, the loud crack as it shattered making him feel a little better. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, listening for the med team making their way back. No point in going out there now, he’s just be in the way. If it looked like nothing they’d bring him to the med station back there for the check up. The emergency ambulance was parked out by the side, if something looked…bad, they’d take him that way, that’s what they’d done when everyone had carried on like Zayn was dying when Owens apron bombed him. Fifteen minutes. He’d give the med crew fifteen minutes to get back here, then he’d start finding out which waiting room he was haunting tonight, Orlando Regional or FHO. If he caught any of the med guys slacking off he was going to make sure _someone_ got a concussion tonight.

Patience had never been one of Baron’s strengths. He fought the urge to pace; he knew making himself stay quiet against the wall wasn’t actually doing anything to help but a lifetime of football made a man superstitious. Someone went down on the field, you shut up and sat back and stayed the hell out of the way. It surprised Baron sometimes how often that old training came back, the same bullshit magical thinking. Baron leaned his forehead against his folded arms, trying to estimate how much time had gone by. Ten minutes, at least. “Get up and I’ll go to that shitty club you like so much,” Baron said, keeping his voice low.

That must have been the right thing to say; almost as soon as Baron got the words out he heard a commotion coming from the hall leading to the med station, the gravel in Graves’ voice carrying. “Will all of you stop fucking touching me? I’m _fine_.” Baron let out a long breath, grinning as he listened to Graves give the medics a hard time. He might not be wrestler anymore but Graves still thought like one, the last thing anyone wanted was those idiots poking at them. Baron heaved himself up, bracing against the wall for a second when his legs almost shook from under him. When Baron was sure had himself back under control he made his way over and lurked in the hallway adjacent to the med room; they’d left the door open and Baron saw Graves sitting on the exam table, his hands curled around the edge like that was the only thing keeping him from punching out some medics. “I swear to God, if you try to shine that light in my eyes one more time….”

It took a few more minutes of Graves being a terrible patient to get the medical staff to finally pack up, one of them handing over a stack of forms to sign before they’d leave him alone. Baron laughed when he threw the pen out the door after them, making Graves look up. “Oh hey! Thought you were long gone. You usually don’t hang around to watch when you’re done early.”

Baron shrugged. “Didn’t have anything else to do.”

“Can you believe this? I thought I was never gonna get them to leave me alone. Like I can’t tell whether I’m concussed or not.”

“They probably think you’re faking. Bet Hunter calls you for a concerned face time chat in the morning.”

“Don’t even joke about that. I’ve had plenty of those for one lifetime. I got the wind knocked out of me, that’s all, I’m fine.”

Graves was talking a little loud and a little fast for Baron to believe _fine_ , but he was willing to let that go. “It’s your own fault. You should’ve known wearing a white shirt like that, someone was going to want to dirty it up,” Baron said, walking over to lean against the med table next to him

“Remind me to send Joe the dry cleaning bill.”

“Sure, that’ll work.”

He jumped off the table and Baron grabbed him by one arm so Graves didn’t have to trust his legs right away. “They wanted to put me on a board, can you believe that? They almost didn’t let me up….”

Baron kissed him mid-word and he liked the way Graves’ breath hitched in at that. The adrenaline shakes had Graves bad; Baron backed him against the wall and kept him there for a while, until he felt some of that fidgety energy start to work itself out. When Baron pulled back Graves chased the kiss, winding up leaning against him, and Baron was a pretty big fan of that too. “You should make a complaint.”

Graves let out that same quick, nervous laugh as when he flubbed a line on live TV. “I should, right? I should.”

Graves started complaining about the medical team’s incompetence some more as Baron led him out of the room and down the hall, Baron kissing him whenever he stopped to take a breath. He didn’t ask where Baron was taking him and Baron didn’t feel all that inclined to volunteer anything. They stopped for a second by Baron’s abandoned bag, Graves leaning against the wall while Baron hunted around to see if he still had the lube from the last time they’d messed around after a show. “…and then that jackass had the nerve to--- hey, Corbin, why’s your stuff just sitting by the door like this?”

Baron didn’t really feel like answering. He grinned when he found what he was looking for, then straightened up and shoved Graves hard against the wall. Baron boxed him in before Graves could straighten all the way up, pressing him tight enough against the wall to feel him breathing. Baron slipped the bottle of lube into his pocket for later and got busy tracing the skull inked on Graves’ throat with his tongue. Graves let out that shaky laugh again, his fingers hooking into the folds of Baron’s sleeves; the shakes weren’t as bad as in the med room but this close Baron could still feel them and he ran his hands up and down Graves’ arms to work the last of those out. When he felt that tension start to unwind Baron slid his hands down past Graves’ waistband, running his thumbs along his hips. Baron shifted over to tongue the fish on the side of his neck, the new one that was still sensitive, and Baron like the way that always made Graves shiver a little bit. Baron eased his thigh between Graves’ legs, leveraging his height just enough to force Graves up on his toes. Graves laughed and clutched onto Baron to keep his balance; he leaned his head back against the wall as Baron started grinding, his eyes going heavy and hooded.

It was _really_ tempting to keep Graves pinned to the wall and make him come quick and dirty like this. Baron could tell Graves was already half way there; he was making a point of going slow but Graves was practically riding his thigh to try to urge the rhythm faster. Instead of giving in Baron started in on getting Graves’ shirt undone, taking his time only because he didn’t want to put up with Graves bitching all night that Baron had ruined another one of his shirts. Well, that and because the longer he took the more Graves squirmed. Baron licked along the curve of his collarbone, sucking hard enough that Graves would have to be very careful what shirt he picked to wear for the pre-show on Monday.

Definitely tempting, especially when Graves started cursing under his breath. Frustrating Graves was always a good time, he got both mouthy and handsy. Baron kissed him again and he knew Graves had to be feeling better when his tongue almost went down Baron’s throat. But he’d had a lot of time to think what he wanted to do sitting in that hallway waiting for the medics to come back.

Baron had also spent a lot of time wandering around Full Sail after tapings over the past three years and he knew exactly which classroom wings weren’t wired for cameras yet.

He stepped back, grabbing Graves by the arm again when that caught him off guard enough to make him stumble. He went back to dragging Graves through the halls, veering off to the right down one of the corridors. He started testing doors and hit paydirt on the third try; he flipped the lights and pulled Graves into the empty classroom, locking the door behind them. The room looked like was for one of the media classes, with long curved tables instead of individual desks. He wondered if that one intern was going to be in here come Monday trying to explain how the mean wrestler stole his homework.

Baron scanned the room, making a point of ignoring Graves asking what the hell they were doing in there. The student tables were too low but the professor’s desk was one of those solid wooden ones, out of place in the tech heavy room. _Perfect._

Baron dug his fingers into Graves’ hair and led him over to the desk, using his free hand to sweep the picture frames and paper clip holders and wireless keyboard littering the desk surface to the floor. “Man, Corbin, don’t trash the place, they know we’re taping tonight.”

“They’ll just blame one of the kids.” Baron cut off any more protests by bending Graves hard over the desk, being sure to keep a tight enough grip on his hair so his face didn’t hit. “Ugh, what is all this crap you put in your hair?” he said, making an exaggerated show of wiping his hand on his jeans.

“Gotta look pretty for the cameras, you know that.” Baron rolled his eyes and messed Graves’ hair up the rest of the way, this time wiping his hand off on the back of Graves’ shirt before undoing his belt and chucking it across the room.

Graves laughed and stretched across the desk, hooking his fingers under the desk’s old-fashioned leather calendar holder. “Should’ve guessed Joe getting the main even would work you up. You're always mad when it's not you.”

Baron slid one hand under Graves’ open shirt and trailed his fingertips down his back. Having Graves face down like this echoed watching him lying still on his face on the floor more than Baron had expected. “Yeah. Yeah, that match was hard to watch.”

Baron shook himself, scraping his nails hard enough down Graves’ back to leave marks. The sudden pressure in his chest faded when Graves laughed again, arching his back into it, and Baron got busy with undoing Graves’ dress pants and sliding them down his hips. Time to shut up now. He was going to say too much if he didn’t shut up. Baron set the little container of lube on the desk and undid his jeans, letting out a relieved breath at his hard on not straining against fabric anymore. Cleared his head a little bit.

Graves watched him from the corner of his eye, messed up hair hanging in his face and a lazy, expectant grin curling up his lips. Graves had a talent for bring out Baron’s contrary streak; he took his sweet time slicking Graves up, managing to get two fingers up to the knuckle before Graves squirmed in frustration again. “Since when did you start taking your time so much?”

“Quit bitching. I’m enjoying myself.” He let out a long breath when Graves clenched tight around his fingers. “If you come right away I’m gonna be really pissed off.” Graves answered with an impatient, back of his throat whine, pressing his forehead against the desk as he rolled his hips against Baron’s fingers. Baron slid his fingers in and out as slow as he could stand and watched Graves get himself worked up; the AC wasn’t turned on in this part of the building and Graves' shirt stuck to him as he started to sweat through it. Baron pressed his free hand against the back of Graves’ neck to hold him still, getting rewarded with a frustrated moan. He got rougher with the fingering, liking the way that made Graves’ breathing hitch. Graves was shaking again but for a better reason now; Graves strained against Baron’s grip, not really fighting it but so frustrated at Baron not letting him move Baron could feel it thrumming under his skin. Baron traced a bead of sweat trailing down Graves’ neck with the side of his nail, getting him to shiver. “Relax,” Baron said into his ear, making sure to loom over him as much as possible. “Quit being so impatient.”

Graves glared at him like he might actually take a swing at Baron if he got the chance and Baron laughed, curling his fingers so quickly Graves’ eyes went wide and his hips bucked. Baron laughed at Graves again slid his fingers out, getting lightheaded when his blood rushed south at the moan Graves let out. And to think he’d had the nerve to tease that Graves might be the one finishing too fast.

Baron got back into position behind Graves, pressing close for a few seconds until he got his head clear again. He nudged Graves’ legs apart a little more, pulling his hips back into better position and Graves muttered _fucking finally_ under his breath. Baron scraped his nails down his back again for that, getting Graves to curse again, then he took two breaths before going in with one quick, rough thrust. He closed his eyes and braced himself against the desk, trying to keep his breathing steady; Graves moaned again, already pushing back against him and not at all helping Baron’s effort to keep his composure. Baron felt a bead of sweat slide down his back as he opened his eyes again and watched Graves squirm and writhe in frustration on the desk for a few seconds. Graves must have sensed Baron staring; he braced up on his elbows and glanced at Baron over his shoulder, pure, desperate _get on with it already_ coming off him in waves. Baron trailed his fingertips down Graves’ thighs and up and down the length of his shaft, a few last seconds of teasing. Graves was so worked up he was already dripping precome; he braced his hands against the desk again, keeping steady eye contact with Graves as he did it, and had to take a deep, long breath when just that was enough to make Graves shiver.

Graves wanted fast and rough, okay, then that’s what Baron would give him. Two thrusts in Graves pressed his forehead against the desk and _moaned_ , his hands curled so tight around the edge of the desk Baron saw white in his knuckles. Sometimes Baron forgot how vocal Graves got when he was really into it; he wasn’t quite at screaming yet but each time Baron moved the moan was louder and rougher, impressively profane cursing creeping in between as seconds turned to minutes. Usually Graves worried about getting caught when they fooled around like this but Baron guessed he’d had a bad enough night that he didn’t care. Or he was trying to keep quiet and just failing miserably, either way Baron was relieved he’d thought to lock the door.

Even so, didn’t hurt to be a _little_ cautious. Baron clamped one hand tight against Graves’ mouth, the change in angle making his vision blur. And it seemed to hit Graves just as hard; this time he did scream, the sound barely muffled by Baron’s palm. Graves’ right hand clutched tight onto Baron’s wrist, like he was holding on for dear life; Baron slid his other hand over and laced his fingers with Graves’, closing his eyes when Graves squeezed so hard his fingers started to go numb. Two quick spasms told Baron that Graves was right on the edge and he gritted his teeth. Baron took a long breath and made himself concentrate on keeping his rhythm steady, shutting out the Graves’ hot breath against his palm and the tight pressure around his cock and how great that sweat soaked shirt looked clinging to Graves’ shoulders. He started counting thrusts, grabbing for anything that would let him focus. _One. Two. Three._

Five was the magic number. Baron felt Graves’ breathing go rough and ragged, his nails digging into Baron’s wrist as he clenched so tight around Baron that Baron’s legs almost went out from under him. It only took a few more seconds for Baron to come so hard he had to lean all his weight against the desk just to stay upright. When he felt steady enough he hooked the professor’s desk chair with one foot and pulled it over, sinking into it and pulling Graves down with him so he was half in Baron’s lap and half still sprawled moaning across the desk. Baron slid one hand under Graves’ shirt again, tracing down the length of his spine. “Maybe I should stick around for the entire show more often, huh?”

Graves nodded, his eyes still dazed. He shivered hard once and Baron splayed his hand against his back to steady him. “I just hate being treated like I’m made of glass, y’know?” he said, his voice soft.

“Yeah. I do.” Baron pulled Graves fully into his lap, kissing the back of his head as he wrapped both arms around his waist. Graves was such a sweaty mess he looked like he’d just come from the ring and Baron felt distinctly proud of himself.

Graves reached up and looped one arm around Baron’s neck as he got comfortable, practically draping himself over Baron with his head against Baron’s shoulder. “We’re gonna get so much shit if anyone finds out we were in here,” he said while not seeming like he was in any rush to leave.

“What are they gonna do, DNA sweep the place? We’ll clean up, it’ll be fine.” He nuzzled Graves’ neck; his pulse was still going so fast Baron could feel it through his lips. “Hey. How about after we get cleaned up we drop in on that club on Main?”

Graves angled his head to look at him. “Yeah? I thought you hated that place.”

Baron shrugged, shifting Graves in his lap. “You like it, gotta be something to it. Been thinking I should give it another chance.”

“Last time we went you started a fight.”

“I was bored. The band sucked.”

“They _did_ suck.” Graves let out a soft, contented sigh, fingertips absently tracing the lines tattooed on Baron’s arm. “That would be cool. Getting to blow off some steam sounds great.”

“Figured you’d say that.” Baron smoothed Graves’ hair back out of his face, kissing his temple. “I hate your guts, you know that right?”

Graves laughed, kissing Baron’s wrist before wrapping his arm more securely around his waist. “So it’s all about me talking up your matches nowadays, huh?”

“You got it.” Baron kissed the back of his head again, right where the shaved area met his hairline.

“How about we skip the club and just go back to your place. Defile that new couch you got.”

God, but that was a tempting idea. “Nah. We should go out.”

“Why’re you so set on it tonight?”

Baron was quiet for a few moments. “ ‘Cause I said I’d go.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. Don’t say I didn’t give you an out.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t defile the showers here before we head out, though.”

Graves nodded, the way he shifted in Baron’s lap making him think he was already half hard again just from the idea. “I like that plan.”

Baron did too, especially if they took long enough to miss the always terrible opening act. He was superstitious, not a masochist. “Then let’s get moving before we have to fight our way past the campus cops.”

“Gimme a minute. I’m good where I am right now.”

Baron certainly wasn’t going to argue with that. He propped his feet up against the desk and watched seconds tick by on the wall clock as Graves started to doze against his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, trailing his fingers through Graves’ hair and listening to the tick of the clock. He supposed he had another fifteen minutes to wait on Corey Graves tonight.


End file.
